The Fourth
by Max Crimson
Summary: Sherlock plans the prefect date for him and John. But he doesn't account for one thing, and will it ruin everything?


_The Fourth_

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I don't own any of the Sherlock's. Just the plot.

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Summery- Sherlock plans the prefect date for him and John. But he doesn't account for one thing, and will it ruin everything?

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Sherlock looks up from his phone and smiles. He looks down at his watch. Any minute now, John will enter the flat and he can get his plan underway for the prefect date.

Half an hour later John entered the flat, his face hidden by brown paper bags.

"John." Sherlock said, getting up. John sat the large brown bags down on the table, glad that Sherlock hadn't decided to perform an experiment while he was gone. He walked to the counters and placed the plastic white bags down. After flexing his arm muscle, getting out the fatigue, he adjusted his ear buds and proceeded to put the groceries away.

Sherlock stood and made his way to the kitchen. John had opened the freezer door to put something that needed to be kept frozen, and Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist. John tensed for a split second before relaxing in his boyfriends arms. He leaned into the warm body behind him and looked up into those eyes. The eyes he got lost in every time he looked into them.

Sherlock went to say something, but John held his finger to his lips. He pulled out his phone and glanced down, turning the music off. He placed his phone back into his back pocket and removed the ear buds, letting them dangle on his shoulder.

"We're going out tonight!" Sherlock announced, looking quite proud of himself (But then again, when didn't he?) John smiled and nodded placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips. He closed the freezer door and tried to pull out of Sherlock's arms, only to be held firmly where he was.

"Sherlock. I need to put the groceries up." John said, looking up at Sherlock. Sherlock nuzzled John's neck and shook his head. John sighed and turned into him, and began to tickle Sherlock's sides. Sherlock let out a short snort, and tried to keep a hold on John, but failed when John's touches became lighter and more feathery. Sherlock let out a bark of a laugh and clutched his side. John smiled triumphantly; he bounced on his toes and kissed Sherlock on the cheek. Still smirking John went back over to the groceries. He had put a couple of cans into the cupboard when he two arms snaked around his waist again, and hoisted him up in to the air.

"SHERLOCK!" John yelled in delight. Sherlock carried John over to the couch, carful to make sure he didn't hit his head on the celling, and dropped John onto the cool leather. Sherlock claimed John's lips as a very heated make out session conspired.

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John went over the contents of his pockets for the umpteenth time in five minutes.

"Wallet, check. Phone, check. Fully charged? Check. Earphones check." John took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Sherlock refused to tell him were they were going, but John had a pretty good idea. He took another calming breath. He shouldn't be this wound out, it was just a date. It's not like haven't gone on them before. John huffed and straightens the jumper that Sherlock had gotten him when he melted John's favorite jumper for an experiment. The jumper brought out the blue in his eyes, and was super soft. He left the bedroom and walked into the living room where Sherlock was pacing.

"Everything alright?" John asked.

"Yeah. Everything's fine." Sherlock said, grabbing John's old leather jacket. Sherlock helped John into the patched, jacket and swiftly put on his trench. John pouted a little. Sherlock always helped John into his jacket, but had yet to let John get him into his trench coat.

They left the flat hand in hand, Sherlock seemed a bit on edge and John was about to ask him about it again when a teenage boy ran up to them panting.

"Holmes?" The boy asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Mmhumm." Sherlock said, checking his watch.

"Exactly 7:30. I have to hand it to 'im." Sherlock mumbled to himself, pulling out his wallet. He handed the boy ten dollars. A smile lit up the boy's face; he thanked Sherlock and took off running in the direction that he came from. Sherlock picked up the picnic basket from off the concrete and hail a cab almost instantaneously. Sherlock held the door open for John, bowing slightly. John smiled sheepishly, entering the cab. John didn't pay any attention to the address Sherlock gave to the cabbie and just stared out of the window, focusing on keeping a cool and collected outward mask on.

John glanced over at Sherlock and smiled, seeing Sherlock with a little, cliché wicker picnic basket in his lap contrasted deeply with his cool and nonchalant look he always wore.

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Sherlock sprang from the cab, leaving John to pay the cab driver (As per usual), and waited, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation. John smiled and took Sherlock's free hand.

"Lead on!" John said with a smile in his voice. Sherlock quickly and eagerly dragged John into the park.

Sherlock set up camp next to a tree sapling; thick and sturdy enough for Sherlock to lean against comfortably, but baby enough for there not to be too many branches in the way.

As John shed his jacket, Sherlock pulled a big picnic blanket out of the top of the basket. The blanket was big and black, with navy blue designs and swirls. John helped to spread the blanket on the lush, green grass and watched Sherlock pull out a full meal from within the wicker basket.

With paper plates in hand, they had their fill of pasta, salad, and cheese bread sticks. John looked in the basket, making sure they got everything out, and pulled out a bottle of Champagne.

"Really?" John asked, with a chuckle. Sherlock gave a sigh and shook his head.

"Well, perhaps we'll have this when we get back to the flat. Hmmm?" John asked, placing the bottle back in the basket.

As they ate, more and more people showed up with similar ideas. Children laughed and ran around with sparkers in their hands, with everything (Except the blanket, which they wrapped themselves up with.) they settled down to watch people in the approaching twilight. John snuggled into Sherlock's side, Sherlock wrapped an arm around John's shoulders; pulling him close. John sighed and breathed in Sherlock's scent.

John smiled and looked up at Sherlock, it was getting pretty dark, so it was difficult, but not entirely impossible. That's when disaster struck.

A white light lit up the dark sky, and with a loud _**BOOM!**_ It exploded, illuminating the world below. John tensed up and shut his eyes tight, trying to regulate his breathing. Reminding himself over and over again that he's in London, not in Afghanistan. Another one went off and John gripped Sherlock's hand tighter than he usually would. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to find Sherlock looking down at John curiously.

"I'll be fine Sherlock." John said, loosening his grip on Sherlock's hand, but not letting go. "Just a couple of flashbacks, nothing more. They'll go away, I'll be fine."

"You sure John?" Sherlock asked. "I should've realized, I didn't think of. I'm sorry John. We should go home." Sherlock said, moving to grab the basket.  
"No!" John said, grabbing Sherlock's arm, stopping him. Determined not to ruin the date Sherlock had planned. "I'll be fine." John snuggled into Sherlock's side when another firecracker exploded. John winced ever so slightly, burying his face into Sherlock's chest.

"See. Fine." John smiled. Sherlock let it go, wrapping a very protective arm around John.

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John was able to keep the memories at bay for 15 minutes, and then the wall broke. A white explosion lit up the night, and like a broken dam, all the memories and instinct came flooding into his mind's eye.

John struggled against Sherlock and the blanket that bound him to his side.

"I'll be right back." John grunted as he continued to struggle.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked before gasping at the unexpected elbow to the side. John sprang up and ran. He ran past corpses, jumped over rocks, and dodged non-existing shrapnel. Everything he saw reminded him of his time in Afghanistan. What he _knew_ and what he _saw_ are to totally different things. He knew that there were people relaxing on the ground, but he saw the bodies of people he couldn't save. He saw military issue jeeps, but he knew they were just normal cars driving down a road.

John stepped out into the street, not realizing that it was a street, a car horn blared and John was brought back to reality. John lunged to the left, while the car veered right. Someone shouted, but John didn't hear what it was, all he saw was the blood on his hands, he scrambled to his feet and dashed across the street. His vision switching from London to Afghanistan and back.

He caught the glimpse of a corner store and ran in. he dashed to the back and crouched, back pressed against the cold metal of the aisle. With shaky hands John pulled out his phone and earbuds and plugged in. he turned the volume up on high and tried to calm his breathing. Rocking back and forth, breathing in and out slowly, and letting the melodies and bass take him away from his mind.

Someone tapped his shoulder and his eyes snapped open. His hand bolted to an invisible gun in its holster. Sherlock raised his hands in surrender, showing he meant no harm. John relaxed a little and smiled up at Sherlock. A loud _**BOOM**_ _!_ Echoed through the corner store causing John's hands to shoot up and clam around his head. His rocking became quicker, more frantic. Sherlock gently lifted John up and placed him into his lap and rocked. He ran a hand though John's hair and rocked slowly back and forth.

A few minutes later John looked up at Sherlock, calmer. John smiled up at Sherlock, a small, sad, embarrassed smile, but a smile none the less. John stands and holds a hand out to Sherlock. Sherlock took John's hand and stood, a loud _**CRACK**_ sounded and John winced. Sherlock waited until he was sure that the firework was finished sounding before taking one of John's earbuds out.

"Keep your eyes closed. Ok?" Sherlock asked. John nodded and Sherlock placed the earpiece back into his ear. John closed his eyes, and with his free hand, adjusted the earbud.

* * *

On the way to the nearest tube station, Sherlock occasionally stopped to try and hail a cab, but his cab summoning powers must've been on the frits, because no cab came.

The ride in the Tube was silent. Not once did John take out the earphones, nor did he try and start conversation, so the trip back to the flat seemed to take a little longer.

John's eye's remanded closed for the entire trip; even on the John kept his eyes clothed.

Upon entering the flat, Sherlock taps John's shoulder twice, telling him that he can open eyes. John sees the flat and let's lose a sigh of relief. John reached into his pocket and found the volume button on the side of his phone and turned it down, but not off.

"Wanna cuppa tea?" John asked heading to the kitchen.

"I'll make it." Sherlock said, jumping up. John just hummed along to the song he was listening to and made enough tea for the two of them. When the kettle started to shriek, John took it off the fire and poured to mugs full of the copper liquid.

"Here." Sherlock took the offered mug. John sat down and took a big whiff of tea, and the last of the tension in his mind left him. When the song was over John turned off his phone and sat it on the side table. He took a drink of tea before

"I'm sorry." They said in unison.

"John. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should've taken into consideration your PTSD and planed something else. I'm sorry." Sherlock said as sincerely as he was capable.

"Oh Sherlock." John sighed. "I'm sorry for messing everything up. I thought I could handle it, I was wrong and I messed up everything you planed. Everything was wonderful. By the way." John said, taking a sip from his mug. John stood sat his half empty mug down next to his phone and walked over to Sherlock, kissing him sweetly on the lips.

"Let me make it up to you." John said seductively, kissing Sherlock again. Sherlock cupped John's but and stood, lifting John up. John locked his legs around Sherlock's waist and kissed him, passion filling the kiss. Sherlock walked to the bedroom and closed the door with his foot.

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Max: A day late, I know. but for my Johnlocksers out there reading this. Sorry for making them OC. Just the way it came out.

Sam: Please review and tell us what you think!


End file.
